


Cin Vhetin

by TheFlyingPotato



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlyingPotato/pseuds/TheFlyingPotato
Summary: Galidraan was the beginning of the end for the True Mandalorians. Faced with destruction, the Mandalorians prove that they're more than a people or an army, they are an idea. After all, you can't kill ideas, but they can certainly kill you.
Kudos: 1





	Cin Vhetin

Cin Vhetin: Chapter 1 - Galidraan

** _Battle of Galidraan, post neutralization of enemy ground forces_ **

**Ver’** **alor’** **ika Nyles Kote**

Nyles heard a knock on the door of his quarters, after which the door opened with a _hiss _of hydraulics. “Nyles, you didn’t forget we’re due to relieve first watch, did you?” asked the figure standing in the doorway, an assault scattergun resting on his shoulder. Varan Varad, officer of the watch, shared the same watch as Nyles. Having followed their parents into the ranks of the True Mandalorians, they had become fast friends since they met on their first changing of the watch together.

Nyles put down the dataslate. On the dataslate was a readout of the ship’s systems, and engineering reports. Nyles had always held the opinion that one could never pilot a ship well if they didn’t know how the vessel was operating. It was like trying to ride an animal whose health and temperament one knows nothing about. “Nayc, ner vod. Just seeing how the ship’s feeling today,” said Nyles, completely serious.

Varan chortled, “You and old Kyrdol sure have some interesting ideas. You both know she’s not one of the old war droids, don’t you?” Varan was talking about the Basilisk War Droids of old, very few if any still worked. Relics, of a time long gone by. Then again, this ship was just as old. The treasured plans for the Kandosii still existed, but why manufacture a revised version when you could upgrade the existing vessels every once in a while, to bring them up to ‘modern’ standards?

In contrast to the ship, he had started his service with the True Mandalorians very young. He was about twelve when he’d signed on as a fighter pilot for the Protectors. He’d still be one if it wasn’t for Nir Kyrdol. Nyles stood up and slipped his helmet on over his head. “She’s just as old as most of them, ner vod,” he said, reaching into his personal arms locker and retrieving his sidearm. Checking that a round was chambered, he dropped it into his holster.

Varan chuckled again. Nyles joined him in the hallway and the two of them began walking toward the mess. Standard procedure was for the ingoing team to be fed first, then stand watch, while the outgoing team will be relieved of watch, and then proceed to the mess. “Food’s supposed to be good today, spiced leathermeat and Uj'alayi,” said Varan. Nyles could almost see the excited grin under his friend’s helmet. “Not as good as your buir’s I’m sure,” he quickly added.

Most children were loyal to their mother’s cooking, and Nyles was no exception, but there was widespread approval for Shaela Kote’s Uj cake. “Speaking of my buir, did you hear anything about the job? Did it go okay?” Nyles had tried to reach his father, but he was understandably busy. Varan however, tended to have ears in the ground forces. It certainly helped that both of his older brothers had gone down with Mand’alor Fett.

“According to my ‘contacts’, job’s basically done, Mand’alor’s gone to talk to the planetary governor about our payment,” said Varan, pausing to return the salute from a few Mandalorians standing guard at a junction. Nyles quickly returned their salute as well. It had little to do with rank and was more in line with a greeting than anything else.

He couldn’t help but laugh at Varan’s use of the word ‘contacts’. “By ‘contacts’, you mean your ori’vode, don’t you?” asked Nyles. He was glad that Varan’s brothers kept him in the know, otherwise he’d be in the dark about a lot. He trusted Varan to keep him abreast of a lot of what was going on. In return, Nyles made sure that Varan stayed out of trouble. Varan was more than a little hot-headed, and Nyles had to keep from getting his shebs kicked on more than one occasion.

Varan exhaled sharply, “You know me well, vod.” Nyles elbowed him in his side playfully, as if to remind him that he was just messing around. Their conversation died down as they joined the group entering the mess. Both Nyles and Varan got their food and began eating quickly, out of habit rather than out of hunger. The two switched to small talk, with Varan taking the time to also read the last watch’s security reports as he gulped down his food. The two separated and headed to their respective duty stations, wishing each other well in their respective tasks, not knowing that they’d need it.

_Thirty minutes later, changing of the watch, bridge of the True Mandalorian flagship Ramikadyc_

Nyles found his station with practiced ease, data from the control station flickered across his HUD the moment he took his seat. “Emergency thrusters need refilling after the run-in with the Black Talons yesterday, don’t forget that,” said a voice from behind him. Nyles didn’t need to turn to recognize the speaker, in fact he didn’t. Instead, he occupied himself with resetting his control presets.

“Nir, the point of me relieving you is for you to go and get some rest, ori’vod,” said Nyles, turning around once the controls were once more to his liking. Each helmsman had their own preferences as far as the sensitivity and the layout of the controls was concerned. Nir had taught him that unlike in a starfighter, he had control here. If he didn’t like something, he could change it to his preference, the point was for a helmsman to feel comfortable at the helm.

“And I won’t rest easy until I make sure the man relieving me knows everything I do,” countered Nir Kyrdol. They did this every time, in one way or another. Nir had taught Nyles to make sure he knew everything about the ship’s current state that was necessary for his position as helmsman before taking over for the previous helmsman during his watch. That didn’t stop Nir from telling him every time. Occasionally, Nir would drop a nugget of previously undisclosed wisdom he’d gained over his years of service. It was for that reason that Nyles still indulged him.

“So, what do I need to know, Nir, other than the lack of emergency thrusters and the power draw problems from the fore starboard and port maneuvering thrusters?” asked Nyles, turning in his seat to look at the older and more experienced helmsman. The Jaig’galaar eyes painted on Nir’s helmet made him look like perpetually had his eyebrows raised, and in this moment, it was appropriate.

“Keep reading those engineering reports, they’ll save the lives of you and your crew one day, Nyles,” said Nir, his tone implying that he was happy, proud almost of what he’d done. Nyles could almost see the smile under his helmet. “I’d remind you of the importance of keeping the weapon range chart in mind, but I can already see it on your right display. Did you write that script yourself?”

“Turoc in engineering showed me how it’s done,” admitted Nyles. As was expected of him, Nyles understood the ship’s computerized systems, but understanding how to write customized automated control or monitoring programs was a little beyond him. One of the junior technicians in engineering, Turoc Cadera, was on third watch. He and Varan had ran into him recently, and he’d joined their pre and post watch meals. The two of them and worked on it and gotten it done after their watch, which was mostly Turoc making sure that Nyles didn’t write spaghetti code.

“I said get familiar with the computers, but this is a job well done. Good initiative, too,” said Nir, nodding in appreciation. “I’d like a copy when you’ve got the time, vod.” Nyles nodded. “I appreciate it,” said Nir and then adding, “And you made sure you’ve kept up on that naval tactics book, the Anaxes War College publication one I gave you?

“Cover to cover,” said Nyles. Nir had expressed how important it was for a ship’s helmsman to understand naval tactics, especially established tactics like those taught at an establishment like the Anaxes War College. It was dual purpose, to understand how to counter tactics such as those, and to perhaps take inspiration from those tactics as well.

Nir seemed like he was going to say something, but the operations officer, a Kiffar woman by the name of Anni Jor, instead called out that there were incoming contacts on the sensors, “Alor’ad Netra, incoming ships on an intercept vector. Six Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers, one Invincible-class Dreadnought Heavy Cruiser and twelve Republic Light Assault Cruisers.”

The central display was crowded with holographic representations of the ships, and the readouts of their weapon systems and their estimated shield strength and hull integrity based off the ship’s sensor readings. Nir and Nyles shared a look, before Nir glanced back at Captain Netra. “Sir,” said Nyles, standing up and turning around to face the ship’s captain. “That’s a Judicial Forces squadron. Two Capital ship sections and a flotilla of escorts.”

Netra nodded as he looked at the display, “Good catch, vod.” He then turned to the comms operator, Gett Itera, “Raise Mand’alor Fett, now.”

Gett got to work at the comms console, Nyles took one last look at him before resuming his seat. Itera was a decent guy, and a comms specialist to boot. He could identify types of jamming being used, was a master of detecting comms intrusion and could perform triangulation if you woke him up and tied an arm behind his back.

It was for that reason, that Nyles began to actually worry when he responded with, “There’s too much interference, sir, I can’t raise him. My credits are on groundside jamming.” He tapped at his console for another moment before announcing, “I can raise Myles, though, sir. Shall I?”

Netra nodded, and Gett went to work raising Jango’s aide-de-camp.

A holographic representation of Myles was projected from the ship’s tactical display. “Myles, this is Netra. We’ve got Republic ships on an intercept course. Stay frosty down there, over.”

Myles smacked his helmet, as if to clear static from the line, “Repeat last, vod? I didn’t catch you, over.”

Netra was about to repeat himself when the display stopped projecting and the line was filled with static. None of them needed Gett to tell them that they were being jammed.

“Sir, we’re being hailed. It’s the Republic flagship RJFS _Courage_,” said Gett, turning toward the Captain. Everyone had their eyes on Netra, they were waiting to see what he’d say. He’d been the Captain of this ship for as long as any of them knew. When Jaster started the True Mandalorians, Netra was there. This was the first time any of them were teetering on the edge of actual combat and the Republic had them outnumbered nineteen to one.

No one could see his face; Captain Netra had his helmet on like almost everyone else on the bridge. From his body language alone, Nyles could tell that he didn’t like what was going on. Of course, that was a perfectly logical assumption to come to as well given the situation.

“Patch him through,” Netra said.

“Mandalorian ship, this is Commodore Aldwin Amescar of the RJFS _Courage_. You are requested to power down your weapon systems, shields and surrender at once. Any further attempts to communicate with your forces on the planet will result in the use of deadly force. This is your first, and only warning,” came the voice of Commodore Amescar from the tactical display’s speakers.

“Judicial Forces? What are the charges, Commodore? We’re here on request from the local government. That’s perfectly legal, last I checked,” said Netra. He must’ve muted the mic, because Netra immediately exhorted his crew into action. “Vode, this is Alor’ad Netra, battle stations. All non-essential crew, clear the bridge.”

“Good luck, ner vod,” said Nir, placing his hand on Nyles pauldron for a moment before turning and leaving. Nyles's heart was beating a million times a galactic standard minute. His trial by fire was an engagement where they were outnumbered nineteen to one, and they were fighting against the Judicial Forces of the Republic, graduates of some of the most elite naval academies in the galaxy.

“You are under investigation for war crimes, Mandalorian, now power down your weapons, shields and surrender. I won’t repeat myself,” persisted Amescar.

Nyles took a deep breath to steady his thoughts. They were in weapons range of the mass drivers and the missiles. Nyles knew the weapons officer, Emri Tenau, well. Like Nyles, she made sure she kept abreast of the ship’s status prior to taking her post on the bridge. She and Nyles exchanged a quick look, the two of them were going to have to work very closely if they were going to get out of this alive.

The transmission winked out. “So that’s how it’s going to be,” muttered Netra under his breath, though Nyles's helmet easily picked it up. “Weapons, give me a targeting solution on those Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers for our missiles, then light them up with our mass drivers. Helm, keep us at long range, don’t let those Republic ships close in.”

Nyles got to work immediately, his console told him the current distance between the Republic ships and their own. Given their rate of acceleration, and the maximum attainable rate of acceleration from their maneuvering thrusters, the Republic ships would eventually catch up with them. Captain Netra had to know this. Nyles interpreted it as, ‘Keep them at long range for as long as is possible.’

Both Nyles and Emri let out an, “Aye, Alor’ad.”

The Kandosii Mk V Heavy Cruiser was armed with sixteen modular ordnance launchers. Eight in the ventral fin, four Starboard and four Port. In days past, everything from super heavy concussion missiles to nuclear fusion missiles had been fired out of missile tubes on a Kandosii. The current mark of Kandosii magnetically accelerated baradium assault missiles out of its modular ordnance launchers.

Nyles watched the representation of the missiles on the tactical display streak out toward the Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers, two per enemy ship. Nyles knew that the Dreadnoughts suffered from computer issues and try as the crew did to shoot the massive missiles down, their efforts were in vain. Even from where they were, the explosions could be seen through the viewport.

The shields on the Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers were gone along with a chunk of forward armor plating. The rest of the plating was badly dented and charred from the baradium explosion. Some of the gun turrets had been shorn off by the blast. They may have been based on the Kandosii, but they were _nothing _like them.

The _Ramikadyc _had sixteen dual heavy mass driver cannons, there were six targets. Two guns focused on a single target as per Emri’s direction, and a barrage of 800mm depleted baradium tipped baradium high explosive rounds were directed at the Republic ships. Chunks of armor and weapon pods were blown off the ship. Their first barrage had all but rendered the bulk of the Republic squadron’s firepower combat ineffective. “Good hits, vode,” said Netra, looking at the results on the tactical display.

Belching acrid black smoke from leaking fuel valves and with most of their teeth knocked out, the Republic Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers still pushed up toward them. The Dreadnoughts were not their problem, it was the twelve Republic Light Assault Cruisers that were making their way unerringly toward their lines. “Alor’ad, those ships will intercept us at our current rate of acceleration,” said Jor.

“Even with full power to the maneuvering thruster array as we’re currently doing, we can’t hope to hope to match their current rate of acceleration without turning around,” said Nyles. He was pouring everything into the maneuvering thrusters, but the fact remained was that the ship wasn’t built to reverse quickly. The Mk V’s powerful M-38 Firestorm-series engines were meant to allow it to give chase to even the nimblest of enemy corvettes, only they were designed for forward thrust.

“If that’s all the time you can buy, Kote, then that’s all we’ll get,” said Netra through what sounded like gritted teeth. “Weapons, targeting solutions on the incoming Republic ships for our tractor beams, then get me targeting solutions for port, starboard and fore ventral solar ionization cannons for the same targets. Continue engaging those Dreadnoughts. Helm, fifty percent forward thrust. It’s time we went on the offensive.”

“Alor’ad, enemy ships are firing weapons! Concussion missile launch detected. We’ve got incoming, count…forty-eight incoming missiles!” called Jor.

The tactical display rendered forty-eight missiles streaking toward their ship. This wasn’t a fighter, a light freighter or even a fast, nimble corvette, it was a massive one point three-kilometer-long heavy cruiser. There was going to be no evasive action. Their only saving graces were the fact that the Republic ships currently engaging them were too small to carry assault concussion missiles and that they had an extensive mass driver flak cannon point defense network.

“Time to see if our point defense guns are as good as MandalMotors says,” Netra said.

The automated targeting system’s firing solutions were rendered onto the tactical display as red lines. There were twelve MD-6 mass driver flak guns, each gun consisted of a pair of six-barrel rotary mass drivers. Streaks of tracers could be seen, distant explosions some of the incoming missiles were swatted away by explosive flak rounds. The black of the void was discolored by the grey smoke of propellant gasses from the veritable hoard of missiles.

As he kept the ship on its present course, Nyles watched the number of active missiles steadily decrease, but also the distance between them and the missiles steadily decreasing. Unfortunately for the Republic, while their Light Assault Cruisers were faring well thus far, their Dreadnoughts were having a very bad day. Mass driver rounds continued to smack into them, stripping off hull plating with each explosive detonation. One of the Dreadnoughts’ engines stopped abruptly, causing the ship to list into the side of its fellow, knocking them both off course.

There were about one third the number of missiles left, and they were perilously close to detonating against their shields. Tracer fire from the point defense guns continued to streak out, leaving about a quarter of the original number of small fighter grade concussion missiles left. Twelve missiles impacted against the shields projected by the massive warship.

“Shield strength at 95%, Alor’ad,” reported Jor.

The Republic Light Assault Cruisers were now in turbolaser range, and they opened up with a flurry of bolts at the Mandalorian ship. They were trying to circle them, and keep circling them, Nyles could tell that much. That was until four of them were seemingly plucked out of the void by an invisible hand. The _Ramikadyc_’s tractor beam had caught them. Four of the ship’s fore ventrally mounted Mandal Hypernautics manufactured SIC-02 Solar Ionization cannons opened fire on the trapped Republic ships, one for each ship.

The searing beams of energy were employed like skinning knives on the corpse of an animal, cutting through the armor plating on the ships with deadly efficiency and gouging an ugly hull rending scar from bow to stern on each of the ships. Solar ionization cannons ignored energy shielding, but their capacitors took long to recharge. Drawing them toward the starboard, port and mid ventral solar ionization cannons, the four Republic Light Assault Cruisers were finished off by another salvo from the deadly shield penetrating weapons.

“Scratch four,” said Netra, nodding in grim satisfaction as the drifting dead hulks of four Republic Light Assault Cruisers drifted past them, the others still flying around the larger vessel like a pack of Anooba. “Weapons, finish those Dreadnoughts. Get me a firing solution for our missiles and do something to keep those shabla Light Assault Cruisers off us.”

The Republic Dreadnought Heavy Cruisers were finally put out of their misery. Six mushrooming explosions claimed them, and when they cleared, all that was left were debris fields that had become the grave of thirteen thousand souls.

The _Ramikadyc_’s dual heavy mass drivers were not fast enough to track the fast-moving corvettes, not with a reasonable degree of accuracy in any case, but that was why Emri was using the tractor beams again. Only, combined with the Solar Ionization cannons, they were drawing a lot more power from the reactor than was necessarily good for their shield mitigation.

If that wasn’t bad enough, they were now in weapons range of the Republic flagship, which had finally decided to join the fight.

As more turbolasers continued to impact against their shields, Jor called out, “Alor’ad Netra, shield strength is down to 78% and dropping fast. If we don’t do something about those Light Assault Cruisers, we’re only going to lose the shields faster.”

The targeting computers and the gunners were overworked, and it was starting to show. What made matters worse was when their scanners picked up a missile launch from the Republic flagship as well as the escorts harassing them.

Gritting his teeth, Jor added, “Concussion missile launch detected, twelve assault concussion missiles from the Republic flagship!”

“Helm, come about, face our starboard side toward incoming missiles,” ordered Netra, urgency edging its way through his normally very calm voice. Facing the ship’s broadside toward the incoming missiles allowed the dorsal, ventral and starboard point defenses to engage the missiles, rather than the fore starboard, port, dorsal and ventral turrets alone.

“Aye, Alor’ad,” replied Nyles, his own stress coming out as well. Throwing a fighter or even a corvette into a turn like that was easy. Doing the same with a cruiser like this? Nyles cut the burn from the main engines and then pulsed the aft port maneuvering thruster array on full power several times. Without the inertial dampeners, they would have all been thrown around in their seats. Nyles was almost sweating at this point. Unfortunately, this meant that their forward rate of acceleration was almost completely negated, and thirty-six concussion missiles hit their shields followed by another hail of turbolaser fire.

“Shields down to 60%!” called Jor, concern now evident in her voice as well. The sudden maneuvering threw the gunners’ aim off and put more strain on the already struggling tractor beam projectors. Instead of bisecting four Republic Light Assault Cruisers caught in the beams, the loss of a tractor beam lock on two ships meant that only two were left lifeless drifting wrecks. It was at that point that the ship’s proximity alarm went off. Nyles knew what that meant. This maneuver had cost them precious momentum, and they’d slowed down enough for some Republic pilot with more gett’se than brains to affix themselves to one of the external docking ports. “Hostile ship has docked. Security net detects deployment bay 01 starboard docking collar aurek is being forced open.”

“Dini’la aruetiise,” scowled Netra, in disbelief that the Republic crews were suicidal enough to even attempt something like this. One mistake and they would have ended up splattered across their starboard docking collar. “All hands, this is Alor’ad Netra, prepare to repel boarders. Security teams to deployment bay 01, docking collar aurek. Prepare to repel boarders.”

Nyles thought of Varan, and silently wished him luck. He knew that as he watched the Beskar armored bridge blast doors close, that the boarders would be dead before they even got to the bridge, but it was always better to be safe than sorry.

“Alor’ad, inbound ships detected. Consular-class, five of them,” announced Jor.

Nyles could see the ships on the display too. They were burning hard and fast, but that wasn’t an intercept vector, they were trying to pass the massive Mandalorian warship.

“They’re not heading for us, Alor’ad,” said Nyles quickly. “They’re trying to burn past us.”

Nyles’s best guess was that whatever cargo or personnel they were carrying, they couldn’t even risk engaging their ship. That was good news for them, but very bad news for their vode on the planet.

Netra looked at the display, checked the current firing solutions and let out a sigh. Nyles had a feeling that he knew that he was powerless to stop those ships. He let out a sigh, “Helm, get us moving again. I want you to put us behind that shabuir. Flight control, deploy our bombers. I want those Light Assault Cruisers dealt with. Weapons, I want a targeting solution on that flagship, for everything we have.” 

**Ver’** **alor Varan Varad**

“Move, double time!” barked Varan over their shared squad comms as he himself ran for all he was worth toward docking collar aurek. Not even twenty minutes ago, this bay had been filled with Mandalorians waiting to drop to the planet in Q-Carriers. Now, it was empty, the warriors having returned to their quarters so as not to get in the way of the ship’s crew. The bay’s blast doors were shut, with Q-Carriers interspersed through its interior.

Varan and his Mandalorians dropped into cover behind anything could find. Cargo pallets, blast resistant boxes containing ammunition, anything that was in sight. There was no time to place anti-personnel mines at the entrance to the deployment bay, Republic troops were probably moving through the airlock as they waited. His second in command, Aetal Fehl, dropped to a crouch beside him, his Concussion Rifle resting on the crate they were taking cover behind. Varan exchanged a quick glance with him before he checked that everyone’s FOF tags were present. Satisfied, he returned his sights to the door. Only then, Varan wished that he didn’t see what he saw; a blue cylinder of coherent energy punched through the Armorplast reinforced Duranium blast door.

“Wish we had micronized Phrik on the external blast doors,” muttered Aetal, tightening his grip on his Concussion Rifle.

Varan happened to agree with him, then again, they’d never planned to take on the shabla Galactic Republic. “Take it up with the Alor’ad when we get done here,” he said. He had wanted to say if, but being their commanding officer, doubt is a luxury that he could ill afford.

The lightsaber began slowly cutting through the blast door. “Bic ni skana'din,” muttered Varan as he looked on at the scene unfolding in front of him. Raising his voice and keying his squad wide comms, he addressed those with him, “Mando’ade! Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur!” A chorus of “Oya” answered him as the lightsaber finally succeeded in cutting a hole through their blast door. This was it.

Aetal fired at the cutout no sooner than the red-hot edges began to cool. The concussive energy charge generated blew the cutout outward, in the direction of the assaulting Republic troops. The surprised cries from the Judicial Forces troops could be heard easily, and it was that sound that was the prelude to a sweet symphony of weapons fire that followed.

The first few Republic troops to stick their heads and weapons out were given a demonstration of Mandalorian marksmanship. The bulky, black armor of the Special Tactics Troopers was probably meant to be intimidating, but to the Mandalorians, it meant nothing.

A pair of smoke grenades rolled out from the airlock which began belching thick grey smoke before they even came to a stop. Even without his helmet’s enhanced optics, Varan was sure he would have been able to see the blue bladed lightsaber through the smoke. The Mandalorians didn’t cease fire, but the Jedi was quick.

Blaster bolts were deflected back, though most of the shooters had managed to avoid being blasted by their own blaster bolts, and those that did were lucky to only have been glanced. Varan keyed the squad comms, “No blasters.” The time it took for most of his men who were using blaster-based weapons was enough for the Republic troops to begin their advance, which wasn’t to say their advance hadn’t cost them.

A pair of micro missiles turned a squad that had pushed out from behind the Jedi into ribbons. The Republic troops were out of flamethrower range, for that they could thank the Force or whatever it was they put their trust in. The tide of Republic troops continued, though none of his troops dared to throw grenades, they were all more than aware of what Jedi could do, and none of them had any intention to witness a demonstration.

Aetal’s concussion rifle spoke again, shattering the bones of a trio of Republic Troops too eager to understand why advancing into a Mandalorian position without covering fire was a bad idea. Their support gunner never made it out of the airlock, both operator and weapon given a demonstration of what a Mandalorian Ripper Rifle could do.

It was ten of them against the veritable army of Republic troops and their Jedi. They were scorched and dinged up, but more or less intact. The same couldn’t be said for the steadily growing pile of bodies around the Jedi. A voice filtered through his helmet, the transponder code identifying it as Captain Netra’s, though Varan knew that the moment he’d heard it, “Ver’alor Varad, din'kartay.”

“Borarir bat bic,” returned Varan as he put an anti-personnel micro rocket from his gauntlet mounted launcher into the newest arrivals. Glancing into airlock, there was a distinct lack of fresh Republic troops. Now was their chance. “Ni dabay din'kartay norac tion'tuur mhi olya gi'a olar,” he said, and then terminated the connection.

“I know that look,” said Aetal, glancing at him momentarily before he flinched as a blaster bolt smacked into the crate in front of him just short of his helmet, leaving a charred divot in it. “What in haran are you planning, vod?”

Varan wasn’t listening, he was quickly changing magazines, swapping the current one out for one loaded with deuterium detonator rounds. “Just cover me,” said Varan, pulling back on the weapon’s charging handle before letting it go.

Vaulting over the crate, he felt blaster bolts graze his torso and thigh plates before what could have only been a blast from Aetal’s concussion rifle tossed Republic Judicial troops around like ragdolls. Varan brought his scattergun up, explosively executing the downed Republic troops and forcing their Jedi to leap out of the way.

The Jedi turned toward his challenger. Varan, ignoring the exploding micro missile that killed a pair of injured retreating Republic troops barely a few feet away from him, continued his merciless advance. Two Republic soldiers put a bolt into his chest plate before micro explosions shattered every bone in their torso. Five rounds left. That was plenty.

“You came to our ship, thinking what? That you’d do anything but die?” he asked the Jedi, who for the first time since Varan saw him, actually looked worried. The Jedi extended his hand out toward him and Varan, remembering what his buir had taught him, activated his mag boots and his jetpack, fighting back against the force attack. His forearm hurt, and pain surged up his fingers. He ignored it as he blinked his way through the suit’s medical suite interface, filling his system with stims.

Varan didn’t stand there, he began firing. He knew that Jedi wasn’t expecting him to recover so quickly. The Jedi leapt out of the way, standing to his feet and discarding his cloak, the bottom of which had caught fire. Varan fired again, this shot throwing the Jedi off his feet. The Jedi landed a few feet away, clothing and skin scorched. The Jedi rolled over onto his stomach and Varan felt a strong tugging on his weapon, unfortunately for the Jedi he had magnetic grips.

Staggering to his feet, somehow, the Jedi activated his lightsaber and began stumbling forward. Varan immediately lifted his left hand and activated his flamethrower. The Jedi barely had time to step quickly, manipulating the flames with the force. That was when Varan pulled the trigger with the other hand. He was injured, and the weapon was by no means light, and so a shot intended for the Jedi’s torso instead landed just short of his feet.

The Jedi was thrown backward. Varan could see dark patches on his tunic legs, the bones were probably shattered and protruding. He wasn’t moving much anymore. The lightsaber was a good few feet from him, thrown from his hands probably. Part of him wanted to execute him, messily, but as he shouldered the weapon, he realized why that wasn’t the smartest idea. This Jedi was more valuable to them alive, he could be used as a bargaining chip. As much as he hated to admit it, they needed to keep him alive. Three shots left. More than enough if he tried something. _If_, he reminded himself. “Don’t shabla move, Jetii,” he growled, keeping his weapon trained. The Jedi, let out a pained sigh, Varan decided to accept that as a sign of surrender.

**Ver’** **alor Aenarr Spar **

Klaxons blared in the _Ramikadyc’s _port side fighter bay. Emergency lighting bathed the entire bay in red. Mandalorians in sityur’gam ran across the bay to their craft. “Tiy'arun squadron pilots, to your ships. Repeat, Tiy'arun squadron pilots, to your ships,” came their orders, blaring through the hangar’s intercom system. Aenarr picked out his craft immediately. It was the first among the vaguely rhomboid shaped ships that someone had stuck a pair of engines and canted tails to the end of and massive armored missile magazines that leaned away from the rest of the craft like someone thought that would save the crew _or_ the ship if they detonated.

Aenarr and his crew bounded up the lowered rear ramp. They had to cross the ship’s meager cargo bay and prisoner storage turned engineering facilities and armory to get to the cockpit, something that Aenarr always hated. The Naast wasn’t a bomber, it was a modification of Mandal Hypernautics Marauder-class Systems Patrol Vessel. Dedicated bombers didn’t sell as well in times of peace, and with no galactic war, some chaakar had the bright idea of converting the patrol ship into a shabla bomber to market it to systems navies but not make a huge loss if it didn’t sell well.

His had HUD synced up with the bomber’s computers, allowing him to initiate the bomber’s startup sequence the moment that he set foot aboard. The engines came to life with a familiar comforting growl at his command. Once he was at the controls, he checked to see that the three other stations were filled and then giving the bomber some vertical thrust, raised the landing gears.

Eight massive bombers waited for the word to launch like swoop racers waiting for the signal to gun their engines. The moments before those glorious words filtered into his head felt like hours. He and his fellow pilots didn’t talk, everyone was focused on getting into the mindset. There’d be time for banter out in the void when they were kicking shebs. Then he heard it, “Tiy’arun lead, this is _Ramikadyc _flight control, you’re cleared to launch. Oya.”

Eight bombers rocketed out into the void. Flight control’s assigned targets appeared on their targeting systems. Aenarr keyed his mic, “Alright vode, call your shots and watch what your shooting. I don’t want any shabla heroes, and I don’t want any di’kute either. Last crew back to the _Ramikadyc _is buying.”

“Osik, I can’t afford to buy drinks again,” deadpanned his bombardier, Aitan Kyrr. In response, Aenarr threw the bomber into a complex high G turn that faced them toward their target. The slow-moving turbolaser turrets on the Republic Light Assault Cruiser spat inaccurate turbolaser fire at them. One glanced off the bomber’s deflector shields, shaking the craft. “If we get back at all,” he muttered, with a complete lack of concern that Aenarr was familiar with.

“Udesii, you old drunk, just worry about shooting straight,” he shot back, lining them up and dialing back to attack speed. They were carrying enough ordnance to blow that Republic ship to Corellia and back. “Send ‘em to haran, vod,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. The targeting solution for their warhead launchers appeared on his screen, overlaying the trajectories for a pair of proton rockets on his HUD. Just to be sure, his madman of bombardier had acquired a targeting solution for a follow-up shot.

Proton rockets streaked out from their pods, hitting the Republic Light Assault Cruiser amidships. The detonation would have blinded him had his visor and the viewport not automatically polarized. He squelched the proximity and shield alarms; the reverberations were enough to tell him that debris was bouncing off their deflector shields.

Scanners told him that the Republic ship was holding together, if only just. Their engines had stopped, and their reactor was redlining. The ship was dead. This ordnance was expensive, they couldn’t afford to throw it around whenever they felt like it, even if he was tempted to indulge his bombardier just to see some more Republic shabuir flash vaporized.

So, he did the next best thing. Depressing the trigger, he sent two streams of high explosive armor piercing mass driver rounds from the chin turret mounted quad barreled cannon into the derelict Republic ship. The internal detonations he saw as he flew past gave him the grim satisfaction of a job well done. Tiy’arun had completed their mission, and true to their namesake, there was nothing left but drifting derelicts.

**Ver’** **alor’** **ika Nyles Kote**

At 75 percent thrust, the _Ramikadyc _could _move._ The Republic ship was not moving, likely realizing the futility in moving to engage the Mandalorian warship that was already moving at considerable speed toward them. Both ships’ weapons were blasting away at each other, shields flaring as they absorbed the blows, but steadily waning in strength. The _Ramikadyc’s _bridge was organized chaos. The latest barrage of assault concussion missiles had been smacked out of existence, but only just, and as such everyone was on edge. Especially since the shields were barely holding steady at 60 percent.

The Republic flagship was close enough to be seen as a tiny spec through the magnified view of the bridge view port. Targeting solutions for the continually firing mass drivers were superimposed onto the projected flightpath on his HUD, reminding him to keep the ship in range. A ping on his HUD generated by his script alerted him to the fact that they were now in solar ionization cannon range. “Weapons, target their quad laser cannon mounts with our solar ionization cannons. Operations, divert remaining power to weapons and engines. Shields be damned, our armor will hold,” ordered Netra.

Affirmative responses came from both Emri and Jor. The targeting solutions for the solar ionization cannons appeared. Even as he focused on flying, Nyles could see Netra’s plan. The turbolaser cannons on that ship, like on most, weren’t fast enough to track missiles. The laser cannons, were. Neutralize those, and there would be less of a chance for them to stop a missile barrage at this range. They had said that Netra was good but watching him in action was something else.

It was a veritable lightshow as their weapons discharged, searing beams of energy bypassing shields and slicing turrets off with surgical precision. Sixteen shots, fourteen clean kills. The accuracy was commendable. They tactical display updated to show sixteen quad laser cannon mounts left active on the enemy ship. Even so, Nyles was confident that they were going to feel the loss of those guns. “Good shooting. Weapons, get me a targeting solution for all our missiles and await my word. Helm, make ready to maneuver on my mark.”

“Aye, Alor’ad,” replied both Nyles and Emri. The Republic ship was growing larger in the viewport now. Laser fire started streaking out toward them. Their shield strength began dropping now, a single percentage at a time. There was no power going to it with Netra having allocated all power to weapons and engines, and both were drawing every bit of power the strained old reactor could supply to them.

“I can ask engineering to boost the reactor to try and save the shields, sir,” said Jor, looking concerned at the slowly draining shield indicator.

“This is a Mandalorian ship. The armor will hold,” replied Netra, only sparing a moment to glance at his operations officer before returning his attention back to the tactical display. Nyles, tracked the exact course as outlined by Netra on his display. If they were going to pull it off, they were going to have to maneuver now. He heard the crew wide announcement made by him a moment later, “All crew, this is the Alor’ad, brace for maneuvering.”

Nyles cut their thrust down to about 60 percent, drawing power from the main engines and splitting it between the fore and aft port maneuvering thruster arrays with a 60-40 ratio. That would prevent them from overcorrecting with the rear thrusters, throwing out their rear. The ancient warship didn’t like it one bit. Nyles could swear he heard the retrofitted honeycomb Beskar frame groan in protest and the very deck plating below him shudder with the sheer force.

In a one for one recreation of what was happening outside, the massive warship on the tactical display tilted about thirty degrees to port and began to throw its rear end outward as it ‘slid’ past the Republic flagship, continually firing its mass driver cannons. It was then that Nyles diverted all power to the starboard arrays to help bring the massive warship to a stop. As it began to slow, the warship drifted toward the rear of the Republic ship, that only now realized what the Mandalorians had done.

The Republic ship desperately began to fire maneuvering thrusters to turn, but Netra didn’t give them a chance. “Weapons. Fire missiles. Send them to haran,” said Netra. Nyles could hear the satisfaction in his voice. It had been a hard fight, but now they had the Republic flagship dead to rights

“With pleasure, Alor’ad,” replied Emri. Nyles was sure that there was a massive grin on her face. Sixteen baradium assault missiles accelerated out of their tubes toward the Republic ship.

A shrill warning sound caught all of their attention. “Incoming missiles!” called Jot. She looked at her screen for a moment, hesitated, and then just said, “Brace for impact!” Nyles watched as the targeting solutions for the point defense guns appeared on the tactical display. There were six missiles coming toward them when the point defense guns started firing, then there were five, four, three, two and then the ship shook. Several massive explosions triggered the bridge blast doors, which shut over the view ports, blocking their view.

Displays flickered, the bridge lights flickered and went out, being replaced by the sinister emergency red lighting before the lights and displays flickered back to life. Concussion missiles disrupted systems, Nyles knew this. So naturally, the two assault-grade anti-capital missiles had knocked out their shields.

“Din’kartay,” demanded Netra, taking a moment to get his bearings before he surveyed his bridge for any damage.

Nyles ran a quick check of his station. The engines were hot, but a coolant cycle was already being run by the ship’s engineers. The rest of the systems were green all across the board.

“Clear on my end, Alor’ad.”

“Guns running warm, but all weapons are operational. Running low on mass driver ammunition, we’ll have to reload the magazines,” reported Emri.

“Shield generator capacitors have shorted out, Alor’ad. Dispatching repair crews, but we’re not going to be able to get them back online anytime soon,” said Jor.

Netra sighed, “Well, we came out of that a lot better than we had any rights to. You should be proud of yourselves, all of you. I sure as haran am. Third watch, consider this your baptism by fire.” A chorus of “Oya!” answered him. “Now, Comms, see if you can raise Myles again.”

“On it, sir,” answered Itera, nodding as he tapped at the communications console. A moment later, a holographic representation of Myles was rendered. Myles had his rifle in his hands, firing at enemies that couldn’t be seen.

“Netra, where in haran have you been? We need reinforcements down here, air support, shabla rocks out the airlocks if you can’t spare anything else,” said Myles, the urgency in his voice was apparent to everyone listening.

“Dealing with the Republic ships in orbit. Some Commodore shabuir claiming we’ve been committing war crimes” answered Netra. “What in haran is going on down there?”

“Funny, some _other _shabuir claimed the same thing down here,” he grunted, dropping a spent power cell and replacing it with a fresh one. “Hurry up and get here, we could do with the help. My scouts think they’ve found where they landed. I can’t think of a better place to put a missile or ten.”

“Alor’ad! Cronau radiation spike! We’ve got a ship coming out of hyperspace!” called Jor. Nyles's heart sank. He knew this could be only one thing; Republic reinforcements. There was going to be no reasoning with them. They were sitting in a graveyard of Republic ships with the battle damage to match. The only option was round two.

“You seem busy,” said Myles dryly, no longer sounding so enthusiastic anymore. Nyles couldn’t help but think about the odds they were facing. Part of him wondered how his buir was, if he was alright, but he knew he could handle himself.

“I’ll get you your support, vod,” said Netra. If they turned now, whatever ship that dropped out could get to weapons range and engage them as they burned toward the planet. If they deployed transports now, they might get to the planet in time, but the deployment decks had been cleared, which meant that by the time they were readied and deployed whatever reinforcements had dropped out of hyperspace would already be on them. No matter which way the situation was looked at, it was not good.

“I’ll hold you to that, Skaran,” said Myles before he terminated the connection, his image flickering once and then vanishing.

“Long range sensors have resolved the enemy ship as a Procurator-class Star Battlecruiser. They’re not hailing us,” reported Jor. They were so few in number, and Nyles knew for a fact that the Judicial Forces were far too underfunded to be able to afford one of these ships. That meant that they definitely pulled some strings with a very powerful system defense force. Looking at the tactical display, it didn’t look like the ship was broadcasting its systems defense force affiliations and was running under a Judicial Forces transponder code.

“Round two,” muttered Netra. “Weapons, when we get into range, aim for the main shield generator array. It’ll damage the shields long enough for us to get a shot off. When the shields go down, hit him with everything we have. In fact, I’m ordering you to remove safeties on our energy torpedo cannons. Flight control, order our bombers to hit that ship with everything they’ve got. Helm, ahead full.” Nyles looked at him for a moment to see if he was serious and seeing Netra’s blank visor staring right back at him, Nyles returned his attention to his station and did as he was told.

“Alor’ad, we haven’t finished shakedown on the energy…” started Emri before she stopped herself, a withering stare from Captain Netra being responsible for that. Emri said nothing more, and Nyles noted the final reserves of the ship’s power being rerouted to the recently fitted quad energy torpedo cannon mounts. All sixteen of them.

Nyles was not so sure their Captain had made the right decision, but Nyles knew they were in a desperate situation. That Republic ship outgunned them and ton for ton was better armed. They were in trouble. If they could give it enough of a bloody nose in the first round of engagement, they just might stand a chance at survival. Their crew had seen combat, while that massive Kuati built ship probably hadn’t seen combat since it rolled out of the shipyard.

The ancient ship complained at being asked to accelerate from a full stop to full speed, but its powerful engines accelerated the Mandalorian warship to its maximum rate of acceleration. Nyles glanced at the tactical display, seeing that the Naast bombers they’d deployed earlier had fallen into formation with them. Even on full burn, the smaller bombers could keep up with them.

The mass drivers were in range first, but there was no point to firing them with the enemy ship’s shields still up. They had a short distance to go before they were range with their solar ionization cannons, only once that happened, they’d be in turbolaser range of the enemy ship. When that happened, they were going to be on the receiving end of a lot of incoming fire that Nyles wasn’t sure they could just fly through.

“They are launching fighters!” reported Jor, consulting his display before adding, “A-6 interceptors!” The A-6 Interceptors were unshielded, light but were well suited to intercepting other fighters and lighter bombers. The Mandalorian bombers were in danger of getting swarmed and overwhelmed, but with the _Ramikadyc _potentially evening the odds, the bomber crews would be more than able to hold their own.

“Order our pilots to hold formation, what point defense doesn’t destroy is theirs,” said Captain Netra. It was at that point that it became apparent to Nyles that Captain Netra wasn’t planning on staying around to engage the enemy ship. This maneuver that they were executing wasn’t so that it would give them an edge. They were _running_. Nyles both understood and hated him for this. How could they leave their vode down there? _Everyone_ on the ship had _someone _down on Galidraan. How could they run?

They couldn’t win either, that was for sure. Nyles knew this as well. Maybe leaving to get help was what Netra was planning. The older Mandalorian said nothing, and if he suspected that they knew what he was doing, he said nothing about that either. Nyles had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he’d missed hearing the officer in charge of flight control’s response.

Nyles head was a churning ocean of thoughts, many of them incredibly stupid and emotional. He shook his head, trying to get rid of them. He couldn’t help anyone down there by being emotionally compromised at a time like this. He was the helmsman, even escaping with the ship intact required him to be one hundred percent focused.

It seemed like an eternity given tensions on the bridge, but the _Ramikadyc’s _point defense weapons finally opened up on the incoming fighters. Lines were drawn on the holographic display, showing just what the point defense guns were engaging. The Republic fighters tried what looked to Nyles like their level best to avoid the incoming rounds, but the explosive rounds were being fired at a cyclic rate of ten thousand rounds a minute. As agile as the craft were, as skilled as their pilots were, they were clearly outmatched.

Of the two squadrons that had accelerated to attack, a decision that had showed the relative inexperience of the Republic officer in charge, only about half their number remained to engage the Mandalorian bombers. Laser cannon fire streamed out from the Republic craft, still determined to engage the Mandalorian bombers. Their own bombers returned fire. Mass drivers, heavy laser and pulse cannons lit up the gap between them. Nyles knew that the Naast-class Bomber could carry a staggering variety of ordnance, but these bombers must have been carrying a purely anti-capital loadout given the lack of missiles being engaged between the ships.

The fight closed to knife fight range now, and Nyles couldn’t help but glance at it from time to time. At this range the Republic fighters’ maneuverability gave them an advantage, but one that was quickly countered by the _Ramikadyc_’s flak guns, which could pen the fighters in with carefully aimed fire. Stuck in knife fight range with the heavier hitting Mandalorian bombers with nowhere to run without facing the Mandalorian flak guns, the fight was almost a foregone conclusion. Unfortunately for them, the Republic fighters had damaged more than a few of their bombers, Nyles caught conversations about at least three crews returning to _Ramikadyc_.

That left five operational bombers out of the original eight. _Five_. A ship that size, there was really not much that _five _bombers were going to be able to accomplish. “Alor’ad Netra, Ver’alor Aenarr is requesting permission to pull back his bombers,” said the officer in charge of flight control. Nyles had a good feeling that the unsaid part of Aenarr’s request as relayed by the officer was that he couldn’t really do anything to a ship that size with what he had.

“Permission granted, tell him to bring his vode home,” said Netra, after a moment’s deliberation, aware that more than a few pairs of eyes were on him. “Weapons, prepare to execute firing solution.” Nyles saw the firing solution pop up on his display. They were only barely out of range with the solar ionization cannons, now. Watching the range indicator tick down was more nerve-wracking than Nyles would have ever believed prior to this occasion. It was not that Nyles didn’t think that their ship’s armor would survive, but if any of their weapon systems were engaged before they got the chance to deliver an effective salvo, then they would be in serious trouble.

The bombers winked off from the tactical display, probably safe behind the hangar’s Beskar sandwiched armorplast blast doors. It was at this point, that both ships opened fire at each other. During an engagement like this, there was very little that a helmsman could do, other than trust in the abilities of his fellow crewmembers. Trying to maneuver now was pointless, their current vector and orientation already gave Emri the best chance she had to coordinate fire against the larger Republic ship. Turbolaser fire from the enemy ship streaked out toward them, and the ship actually shook from the impact of the enemy warship’s opening barrage. True to its reputation, the Beskar armor and honeycomb frame held strong, with no hull breaches being reported.

Their return salvo was equally deadly thanks to their unconventional arsenal. Against a ship as large as the Procurator, the _Ramikadyc_’s gunnery crews could bring all sixteen of its solar ionization cannons to bear. All sixteen cannons fired; their targeting solutions displayed on the tactical display. The ship’s armor was dense, and as powerful as the solar ionization cannons were, a single salvo wasn’t going to do it.

The Procurator fired again, this time Nyles was sure that the barrage had knocked out something important. “Two dorsal and two ventral point defense guns offline! Two fore ventral solar ionization cannons offline!” reported Emri. “Gunnery crews are reporting significant data corruption from fore sensor arrays.”

“Keep firing,” said Netra through clenched teeth. Nyles could feel the ancient warship complaining with every single unit they moved. Under Emri’s direction, their ship fired again at the Republic warship. This time, the Republic ship’s shields flickered. Netra’s words were already out of his mouth before the tactical display even changed to reflect this, likely due to a faster updating in-helmet feed, “All weapons, open fire!”

The display was simply fantastic. Their ship just continued firing at the Republic ship in front of them. Mass driver rounds detonated explosively against weapons batteries, only stopping once their mostly depleted ammunition feeds ran dry. Nyles watched the status lights of each of the sixteen turrets turn from green to orange.

The quad energy torpedo cannons, all sixteen of them fired the equivalent of unguided heavy proton torpedoes at twenty percent the speed of light with their ship’s current acceleration added on. Sixty-four explosions blossomed all over the Republic ship, targeting weapons batteries and other exposed sub systems. Finally, the ship’s sixteen modular ordnance launchers unleashed sixteen assault grade baradium missiles. Already taxed tracking their own fire arcs, the tactical display didn’t update to show them the estimated firing solutions of the enemy point defense guns. The only sign that they’d accomplished anything was a _massive _explosion.

When the viewports had depolarized, the magnified view of the Republic ship was a sight to behold. The hull was scorched, with chunks missing. Atmosphere was venting in several locations. They had no right to come out of that fight as well as they did. They should be a drifting hulk, but whoever was in command of that Republic ship had clearly made the biggest mistake a ship commander could; underestimate his enemy. “Din’kartay,” breathed Netra.

“Significant damage to fore weapons systems, energy torpedo cannon capacitors are bleeding power,” reported Emri. Nyles's display correlated those results, the entire energy torpedo cannon network was displayed as orange, and several of the fore weapons were displayed as red.

“Fore sensor cluster has sustained significant damage, Alor’ad,” reported Jor. Without eyes, they weren’t going to be able to put up much of a fight. Even though they’d significantly bloodied the Republic battlecruiser, the enemy still had fighters and possibly bombers to launch and for sure still had a few gun batteries remaining, even if their sensors were too damaged to pick them up. With no shields, and damaged sensors affecting their target acquisition capabilities, there was no way they could stay in this fight.

Netra seemed to be weighing their options. Nyles didn’t envy his position one bit. He had a very hard decision to make. “Helm, take us out of the gravity well. Charge the hyperdrive and prepare to jump to Breshig.”

For as long as Nyles had known him, Nyles had never known Captain Netra’s XO, Ikaan Varad to interfere with his command of the ship. This was the first time he’d ever seen the man do so—

“Alor’ad…those are our vode down there. We can’t just leave them.”

Ikaan was saying what everyone else was thinking, and from his tone he was just as serious about it. Nyles didn’t think he was going to be easily convinced otherwise, and nor were the rest of the bridge crew.

“We stay here we die. You think us dying up here is any use to them?” he asked, his voice stern, but level. “You want to throw your lives away, fine, but do it on your own time and after your watch. If we leave now, we just might be able to come back with some actual support, not a badly damaged ship fighting against a ship that by all rights should have crippled us by now. Have I made myself clear?”

No one said anything at that point. Captain Skaran Netra had indeed made his point quite clear. It was a combination of his authority and sound logic that made everyone return to work. Ikaan nodded, and then so did Netra. “Good. Helm, get us the haran out of here.” Nyles nodded and returned his attention to his station.

_Surface of Galidraan, post retreat of the Ramikadyc_

**Ver’** **alor Ruhr Kote**

The rudimentary photo-replicator camouflage systems in their armor kept Ruhr and his scouts safe from detection by Republic forces. Only a few of them had Reflec coated armor, and so they were keeping their distance from the landed Republic ships in the near distance for more than one reason. It was a nerve-wracking position to be in, but they had their orders, and they weren’t going to let some aruetii with an overinflated opinion of themselves get in the way of carrying them out.

“Any word from the _Ramikadyc_ or Myles, Vriz?” asked Ruhr, hoping to get some good news from his second in command, who was monitoring the comms frequencies while their comms specialist was waiting for the signal to transmit their targeting data so they could get the haran out of here before they stirred up the hornet’s nest. It was an aruetii turn of phrase, but one he found to be more than applicable to the situation that they found themselves in.

“Nothing but static, ‘alor,” replied Vriz Spar, shaking his head slowly in disappointment. “Not enough white noise to reek of jamming, but whatever’s going on, I don’t like it.” They had some of the finest comms equipment that credits could buy in their buy’ce, there were only two things that could have been causing them issues. One, there was no one to transmit to, and two, if they were being jammed. Neither case boded particularly well for them, but _shab_, he didn’t have many options either.

“Mando’ade, pack it up, we’re pulling out. Darnal, if you’ve got those coordinates wrapped and tied off with a bow, I’d like to be able to get the haran out of here,” he said to Darnal Varad. Darnal had a talent for signals analysis and had always served the additional role of technician for his squad. He was as talented a scout as any of them, and Ruhr had always appreciated his ability to stay cool no matter the battlefield circumstances. To see the delay in his response only added to Ruhr’s concern.

“Coordinates are ready for transmission, alor, only something’s wrong with the comms,” he said as he stood up, his optical camouflage shimmering once before Darnal, like the other scouts around him, was a perfect replica of his surroundings. None of them let the conversation delay their departure and got moving without needing to be told to do so, as was expected of them.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Darnal. Both the _Ramikadyc_ and Myles can’t be raised for whatever reason. Are we being jammed? That’s all I want to know,” said Ruhr, shouldering his Verpine Shatter Rifle as he took one last look at the Republic landing site and the troops seemingly oblivious to their presence. Nothing was showing up on heat or life form scans, and somehow Ruhr was refusing to believe that they were this lucky.

“It’s possible, sir. If we are, it’s not obvious, won’t know till I can run an analysis,” said Darnal. Wayii, just what he wanted to hear. “I’ll keep you apprised, alor,” he added quickly. Ruhr nodded to himself as he joined his men, his own optical camouflage systems activated when they’d activated theirs. The five Mandalorians vanished into the snowy wilderness like ghosts into the night, eager to leave before they pushed their luck too far.

Stealth systems like the optical camouflage rigs that were installed on their armor was only useful for those who knew how to and had the natural ability to use it. Move too quickly, or in a jerking manner, and the cloak would shimmer as it struggled to keep up with the sudden movement. To scouts like Ruhr and his men, most of who had been doing this for at least ten years, it was second nature to them.

Ruhr allowed his mind to drift slightly, thinking about Nyles and Shaela up on the _Ramikadyc_. His riduur, his ad. They couldn’t be dead, could they? No, they were better than that. The _Ramikadyc _was better than that. If they were out of communication, it had to be on his end. He was sure of that, and he so badly wanted to be able to confirm that somehow. He _needed _to know.

A glance at the chrono displayed on his HUD told him that it would be Nyles's watch now. Part of him wanted to be up there, to congratulate his son on his baptism by fire. Whatever Republic shabuire were up there were probably dead, and they were probably on their way back to orbit right this moment. That was what he wanted to believe in any case, what he _needed _to believe. 

Ruhr took a deep breath to steady his thoughts. He was going to get off this _kadtape_ ice ball, and he was going to see his kids and wife again. It was Darnal’s voice that ended up interrupting his thoughts, “Alor, I’ve analyzed the static pattern, and we’re in the osik now. Background static’s too consistent to be the atmospherics. Can’t believe I didn’t figure it out earlier…”

Ruhr’s motion tracker and life form scanner returned a faint reading at the edge of their detection range. Ruhr snapped up his Verpine Shatter Rifle in the direction of the sensor contact, he was sure the other scouts had as well. He needed Darnal to focus, because something extremely troubling had just occurred to him, “Darnal, listen carefully. We all make mistakes, but what I need to know now is if they can triangulate our position if they’re jamming us.”

Darnal sighed, “Well it’s possible, since they can’t jam our transmissions, they can only overload our receivers, and we’ve been trying to contact…oh, shab. They know our frequencies…that’s how they’re jamming us! Otherwise they’d be jamming themselves too!” Ruhr didn’t need Darnal’s very specific knowledge to know that it didn’t take a genius to figure out what frequencies they were using, and he could think of more than a few people who had this information with an axe to grind. Montross being right at the top of that list.

“Mando’ade, comm lasers only,” he ordered, disabling his own comlink. “We’re-” before he could say anything else, Ruhr was distracted by the readout from his armor’s motion tracker and life form detector. Something was en route to their current position, and it was coming in fast. If Ruhr had a guess, a speeder of some kind for sure. “They can’t track us all at once. Vriz, get Darnal and that data to Myles. Rest of you, you’re with me. We’re going to give them something to chase.”

“K’oyacyi, ner vod. I’ll see you back at camp. I’m buying all of you drinks when we get out of here,” said Vriz, his voice filtering through his helmet’s speakers, and a small picture in picture display of his face displayed at the bottom right corner of his HUD.

“I’ll hold you to that, vod,” said Ruhr, exhaling sharply. “Mando’ade, let’s show these shabuire just how hard it is to track a Mandalorian.” A chorus of ‘OYA!’ echoed through his helmet from the other three remaining members of his squad. Including himself, there were two other Mandalorians with him. Gral Cadera was one of the finest marksmen he had the pleasure serving with and was a crack shot with his SR-series 2M Verpine Anti-Material Rifle. Rork Ordo was unlike most members of Clan Ordo that Ruhr had come across in everything save for his preference for heavy weapons. Rork hefted an ageing but lovingly maintained Repeating Ripper, fitted with a heavily modified Czerka suppressor. Aside from Vriz and Darnal, he couldn’t ask for finer men to fight alongside him to ensure that the Republic didn’t stop them from getting the data to their vode back at their main camp. “Gral, Rork, I don’t have to tell you that what we’re doing here is going to get messy, do I?” he asked.

“It’s time things got messy for those shabuire,” responded Rork, the electronic distortion adding to the natural gravel in his voice. Rork was right, the Republic had picked the wrong people to fight here. He didn’t know if they’d just arbitrarily chosen to come after them and were using some trumped up excuse or if they’d truly been set up. Either way, it didn’t matter, they had brought the fight to them. Rork was right, it was time to make them regret ever coming here.

“It’s time to stop hiding,” said Gral finally. “No more running, no more trying to lose them. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Ruhr just couldn’t help but smile at Gral’s words. Today _was _a good day for someone else to die, he sure as haran didn’t intend to die today.

“Oya,” agreed Ruhr, nodding to himself. “Reactivate comms, time to give these shabuir something to chase.” It occurred to Ruhr that they’d see it as a ruse, but they had no way to track Darnal and Vriz now that their tracking method had been discovered. Any Jedi nearby could very likely track them, but given the terrain, the only way to get to them was through them. Ruhr hadn’t killed a Jedi yet, and today, it looked like he was going to get that chance. “Gral, post up and get us some cover. Rork, with me, we’re going to take up ambush positions.”

Ruhr had a decent idea of where his men were even with their optical camouflage activated thanks to their helmet’s IFF circuitry. The pass that they were planning to hold the Republic in was as good a place as any. There were trees on either side, offering them a good degree of concealment. Not that concealment was going to matter much once the blaster bolts started flying, but it did have a large role in deciding who shot first. You can’t shoot at what you can’t see, but it can definitely kill you.

A few moments later and he and his Mandalorians had just about taken up positions. Ruhr had placed AP Micromines in a half circle in front of his position, based on calls over their short-ranged laser coms, Rork and Gral had done the same. There was little ‘uniformity’ among the True Mandalorians, but the AP Micromines had proven so useful on prior occasions that nearly all Mandalorians that served in a scout capacity carried them.

His armor’s sensor suite reminded him that the fast approaching contacts that were at the edge of scanner range were now a lot closer, just as he’d hoped. “Mando’ade, tsikador par lenedat!” he barked over their laser comms, not that they were in direct line of sight with one another, but at this range that mattered very little. Almost as if on cue, nine Republic Outland Regions Security Force Special Tactics Troops dropped in on rocket packs. They fanned out slowly once they landed.

Ruhr’s advanced sensors picked up bits of their conversation, “I can’t see them…something’s not right, signals reported that they were right here.” The man who’d spoken, who looked like the squad leader, turned to one of the other men with a data pad in his hand, “Check the trackers again, I’m sure they’re here.”

“Uh sir...if the tracker’s are working fine, then we’re right in the middle of-” the man was interrupted the removal of his head. Ruhr smiled, Gral had chosen the perfect time to fire. Taking this as his cue to open fire, a hail of ripper rounds smacked into the hapless Republic troops. One of Rork’s ripper rounds must have penetrated their rocket packs, because one of them detonated with the force of a concussion detonator.

Ruhr took aim at their heavy weapons trooper, who had managed to ascertain which direction the heavy weapons fire was coming from and turned to fire in Rork’s direction. Inhale. Fire. Exhale. The Verp round left his gun, punched through the man’s head and splattered his brains across the blackened and scorched snow before he even knew what had happened. The next round tore through the commanding officer’s shoulder, nearly taking the entire arm off. The man dropped backward, staining the snow around him with his blood.

“Cease fire, pack up, we’re relocating. Stay here too long and they’ll get long ranged fire in on our position,” he said, transmitting the deactivation signal to his AP Micromines. Ruhr spent the next minute picking up the deactivated mines. A gurgling sound from the pile of bodies got his attention, and he saw that the commander hadn’t quite bled out yet. Ruhr walked over to the dying man and when he was standing over the man, he deactivated his armor’s optical camouflage systems.

The man looked up at him, coughing up more blood as he realized what he was looking at. For a moment, he tried reaching for his weapon, that was until Ruhr leveled his Verpine Shatter Rifle at his head. “More will come,” he promised between hacking coughs. Defiant, to the end. So sure, that what they were doing was right. Arrogant Republic shabuire.

“I’m counting on it, aruetiise,” said Ruhr, discharging his weapon into the man’s head, splattering bone and brain matter onto the already red-stained snow. He turned around, activating his armor’s optical camouflage once more. He was about to get moving again when his suit’s sensors picked up two man-sized targets moving fast toward them. Too slow to be using a rocket or jetpack, but too fast for it to be anyone moving at a combat jog or even a full dead sprint. That left only one option; _Jetii_.

_Translations_

Jetii – Jedi.

Di’kut/Di’kute – Idiot/Idiots.

Alor’ad – Captain.

Oya - Many meanings: literally “Let's hunt!” and also “Stay alive!”, but also “Hoorah!”, “Go you!”, “Cheers!” Always positive and triumphant.

Buy’ce – Helmet.

Ramikadyc – Commando state of mind - an attitude that he/ she can do anything, endure anything, and achieve the objective. A blend of complete confidence and extreme tenacity instilled in special forces during training. Can also be used informally to describe a determined, focused person.

Riduur – Partner (romantic)

Ad – Child/Son/Daughter

Shabuir - Extreme insult - *jerk*, but much stronger

Ver’alor’ika – Junior Lieutenant

Bic ni skana'din - Expression of being angry, repelled or “That really ticks me off.” From the words for give and a hated thing, much like “it gives me the scunners.”

Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur – Today is a good day for someone else to die.

Ver’alor – Lieutenant

Din'kartay - Sitrep

Borarir bat bic – Working on it.

Ni dabay din'kartay norac tion'tuur mhi olya gi'a olar – I’ll report back when we’re done here.

Mando’ade, tsikador par lenedat – Mandalorians, prepare for contact.

I may have missed a few translations, check Mandoa.org for those.

_Notes_

The Naast is loosely based off Star Citizen’s A2 Hercules.


End file.
